


breakfast in bed

by sleepinnude



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Intercrural Sex, dumb boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24067519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepinnude/pseuds/sleepinnude
Summary: Dean wants to make Benny breakfast in bed for his birthday, but he gets up too damn early. So Dean has to entice him to stay in bed.
Relationships: Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	breakfast in bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clasch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clasch/gifts).



Breakfast is Dean’s favorite meal of the day. Even on a case, you could always take your time with breakfast. Rise with the steam from your coffee. Slide your bare foot along the bare foot of the man sitting across from you, who rose from bed early and set about with the coffee and the eggs.

Yeah, that's the thing.

Benny wakes up at the ass-crack of dawn and Dean’s love language is taking care of people. Cooking being one of the primary ways of doing that. But it's hard to make breakfast in bed for someone when they won't fucking stay in the bed.

But it’s Benny’s goddamn birthday and Dean is going to make him goddamn breakfast in bed. 

So when he feels the other side of the bed shuffle with Benny’s shifting, Dean rouses himself quickly. It’s quite the inelegant move, throwing himself over Benny’s chest, but it does the trick, for the moment.

Benny looks at him, blue eyes all full of pupil in the still dark, and blinks in bemusement. “Holding me hostage, cher?” he asks, but there’s humor in his sleep-rough voice.

“Yeah,” Dean slurs. His eyes fall closed as he sinks the whole of his weight over Benny. “Yeah, you can’t get up.”

“Not like you to cling.”

“No, it’s –” Dean yawns. “It’s. Birthday.”

“Well, one of them.”

If he weren’t so sleepy, Dean would glare. When they first talked about birthdays, Benny thought he was clever talking about when he was turned and then when he came back from purgatory and then when he came back from purgatory again. It took a minute for Dean to wheedle the answer he was looking for out of him.

“Shut up. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, cher. What about my birthday makes it so I can’t get outta bed?”

Dean groans a little and nuzzles his face into the pocket of Benny’s neck. “Breakfast. Was gonna. Wanted to make you breakfast.” He shouldn’t have to explain himself to anyone about anything this early in the morning.

Benny’s expression goes soft and he runs a hand up through Dean’s hair and, hey, well, that feels nice. “Sweet of you, cher, but not necessary.”

“Dude, nothing about birthdays are _necessary_ but we still do it all. Let me make you freaking breakfast in bed.”

There’s a long pause where Dean props himself up on his forearm and yawns something worthy of an animated film and Benny just watches him with a frankly embarrassing amount of fondness written across his face.

“How about this,” Benny drawls. “I’ll stay in bed another few hours so you can make me my birthday breakfast without burning this bunker down from falling asleep at the stove.” 

Dean cocks his head, well aware of the compromise coming in Benny’s tone. “But?”

“But, I’m pretty awake now, cher…” If the trailing innuendo of Benny’s voice isn’t clear enough, his hand dipping firmly over Dean’s ass certainly is.

Turns out it’s not a compromise at all.

“Oh, I can definitely get on board,” Dean says, already pitching himself upright to tug his t-shirt off. 

Benny rumbles a laugh and fits his hands over Dean’s hips, thumbs framing the sloping softness there. “Kind of you, since it is my birthday and all.”

Dean doesn’t answer, just resituates his weight and spreads his knees wider so he ends up straddling Benny low. Bracing himself on hands, he rolls his hips hard and long and slow. Heat rises steadily up his core so that he can feel it against his chest, beneath his cheeks. Benny has his head tipped back into the pillow so that Dean can just see the long line of his throat, the curve of his lower lip.

It’s not long before they’re both fully hard, fingers digging into hips and waists and both of them whining. With a huff of frustration, Benny rolls them over and strips Dean’s boxers down his legs. Dean tries to kick them off all the way and tug Benny’s down at the same time, ends up failing at both endeavors. Between the two of them, though, they manage and Benny falls on Dean’s mouth.

Dean’s always liked kissing, a lot. He liked when it lead to more, of course, but just kissing, just making out… He can get lost in the ebb and pull of it easily and with Benny… Shit. 

Even with all that true, it’s still a firebrand against his spine when Benny wraps a hand around Dean’s cock. He whimpers a broken sound and squirms, begs Benny absently. And Benny, bless him, obliges. There’s the awkward shuffle through the bedside drawer and a clicks and Benny is absolutely ravishing Dean’s neck, the joint of his shoulder.

Before long, they’re both on their sides and Benny has those thick arms locked around Dean’s shoulders and back and he’s got a rhythm. Dean’s thighs are pressed tight around the hot line of his erection and it’s sloppy as all hell, lube and precome everywhere, but Dean’s whole world has narrowed to Benny, Benny, _Benny_.

He must be chanting it out loud, Benny’s name, because then their foreheads are matched, sweat slippery, and Benny is rasping back, “I know, I know.” and “C’mon there, Dean.” And between that and Benny holding him like that and the hand around his cock and the Benny’s is nudging at the cleft of him with every pulse, Dean feels himself contract and contract and then, brilliant, comes.

He’s aware, distantly, of Benny falling along with him and if he thought it was messy before, well, shit.

It takes a minute for Benny to unlock his arms from around Dean but when he does he’s all gentle, brushing fingertips and the graze of kisses. 

“Love you, cher,” he mutters into the sweaty peaks of Dean’s hair. “Love you.”

Dean closes his eyes and lets himself lay, slack-jawed, before climbing over to plant a lazy, messy kiss just left of Benny’s mouth. “I love you,” he declares into the soft, pre-dawn. It’s rare he says it aloud, even rarer in English, but he’s so full with the feeling that he can’t help but say it. “Happy birthday, okay? I’m glad you were born however many centuries ago.”

Benny doesn’t even rise to the bait, just keeps smiling wide and genuine and so, so, fond. He pulls Dean in for a slow kiss and then drops back against the pillows. “Better get your rest,” he says, “you still owe me a breakfast.”

**Author's Note:**

> for clara who sent the prompt of "breakfast in bed"
> 
> [rebloggable on tumblr!](https://sweatercas.tumblr.com/post/617513440109527040/deanbenny-breakfast-in-bed-level-of-smut-up-to)


End file.
